


Heart Between My Teeth

by mizuirokandeya



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Also feelings, Coda Thing because of that HUGE missing chunk of time, Dean is Dean, Episode: s09e06 Heaven Can't Wait, M/M, because Cas is human and that is a lot and, so it's a mess waiting to happen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:20:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29052033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mizuirokandeya/pseuds/mizuirokandeya
Summary: "I have a motel room." Dean rubs a hand over the back of his neck, doesn't dare meet his eyes. "You deserve a proper bed after the night you've head.""Dean.""Not asking again, Cas," he mumbles and shifts his gaze out the window, feels shame and guilt settling low in his stomach, clawing at his insides. That he never even uttered the question ofdo you want todoesn't matter.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 14
Kudos: 168





	Heart Between My Teeth

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from the song ["Between My Teeth"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dPSmWFGkCw4) by Orla Gartland.
> 
> Warnings: A panic attack; sexual interactions in a situation where everybody probably shouldn’t be having any form of them because of said panic attack happening minutes before.

"Where to, Cas?"  
  
"The Gas n' Sip, please."  
  
That's all they had said after Dean had started the car. No further words exchanged just futile glances. Dean wants to say something. Wants to ask Cas how he's feeling because it can't be good. He only caught the tail end of the conversation between him and that other angel. But he got the gist - there for Cas, not the baby, but for Cas because of his pain - and if that's not on him, Dean doesn't know what in his life is. His fingers are vibrating with the need to mention it, tapping away on the steering wheel to the sound of silence and breathing, but he can't unglue his lips from each other. The drives not long enough anyway.  
  
"Thank you," Cas says, polite but voice tight when the Impala is stopped before the Shop of the Gas n' Sip, engine still purring. His smile is even worse when he moves to open the door.  
  
"Don't mention it. Just get whatever you need to get and then I can drop you at your place.  
  
Cas freezes, one leg already out on the pavement. And even in the dim light of the gas station, Dean can see the way his ears flush and how his jaw clenches. The penny drops pretty quickly.  
  
"You're staying here." It sounds much more accusatory than he wants it to. Dean wishes he'd just kept his mouth shut, let him leave instead of making things worse. Sometimes - most times - that's just easier anyway.  
  
Cas shrugs his shoulders, doesn't turn around. But there is pain, pain, pain screaming from every fiber of his being. "It's warm and dry. Everybody thinks I like to come in early."  
  
For a second Dean thinks he's having a heart attack, a sharp pang in his chest, making his grip on the steering wheel tighten. Of course, Cas doesn't have a place to stay. He kicked him out of what would have been his home because Sam-  
  
Dean swallows. His reason was, no, is valid. That doesn't mean it wasn't executed in the shittiest way. He could have found him a place, dropped him off with other hunters - Jody maybe, _anyone_ \- or at least made sure he'd take some of the fake credit cards and not just disappear. But he didn't. So Cas is fucking homeless and it might as well be single-handedly his fault. "Get back in the car."  
  
This time Cas does turn, frowning and head tilting. The tiny bit of confusion doesn't mask his hurt though. Dean bites his tongue to keep himself from apologizing. It would only make things worse right now. He'll make it up when he can. Cas will understand.  
  
"I have a motel room." Dean rubs a hand over the back of his neck, doesn't dare meet his eyes. "You deserve a proper bed after the night you've head."  
  
"Dean."  
  
"Not asking again, Cas," he mumbles and shifts his gaze out the window, feels shame and guilt settling low in his stomach, clawing at his insides. That he never even uttered the question of _do you want to_ doesn't matter.  
  
Shuffling, then the car door slams shut again. "Thank you," Cas says, voice nearly getting drowned out by the rumble of the Impala.  
  
Dean shrugs his shoulders and drives.  
  


* * *

  
Their conversation doesn't go past shallow words of "You really don't want anything to eat?" and "You can have the first shower," and nothing that needs to be said, gets said and Dean still feels an apology stuck in his throat when he burrows into the stiff pillow and prickly carpet, not waiting for Cas to return from the bathroom. The light's already off but Dean can still feel Cas hovering in the door, unsure, shifting his weight. But he stays quiet, too, pads to the bed. His sigh, when he sinks down onto it, might as well have been a scream and Dean bites his tongue.  
  
"Good night, Dean."  
  
Dean pretends to be asleep.  
  


* * *

  
Dean wakes to a dull thud, his hand already under the pillow, slipping over the carpet and he's sitting upright in seconds. His gun shakes in his hand, his mind dizzy and clouded with leftover sleep and muddy dreams, and at the end of the barrel, at the end of his makeshift bed, there's a slumped figure. It's making cut off wheezing sounds. Dean takes too fucking long to react.  
  
"Cas?" He clicks the safety back on, drops the gun to the side, and scrambles towards him. The blanket is still caught around his legs and he nearly falls headfirst to the floor. "Cas."  
  
"Can't-" Cas breaks off, just shakes his head, one hand moving over the floor, looking for purchase to support his shaking, trembling body and finding none, while the other's pressed against his throat. Dean reaches out, notes in the faint light coming in through the window how his knees look scratched and irritated from the carpet.  
  
"Hurts," Cas grunts, while Dean's hands settle on his face, tilting it back up, forcing Cas backward until he's not hunching over and there's room for his body, for breath and a level voice that's going "That's okay. Can you try and listen to me?" and that's his own and oh.  
  
Cas is flushed, eyes heavy-lidded and unfocused and his fingers are now digging into Dean's arm like he's drowning - not in water but his own mind - and his mouth is hanging open, drawing breaths but he swallows around the air like he can't catch it in any way. Still, he nods, the tiniest of movement.  
  
"What you're feeling is scary but it's not dangerous."  
  
A flicker of something, another wheezed breath.  
  
"You're having a panic attack." Dean flounders doesn't know how familiar Cas even is with that concept. If not stuck in it he'd probably piece it together just from the words but Dean's not sure how to explain what's happening to him, how it's just a human thing, without upsetting him further - _human_ is probably part of what caused this in the first place. There's a flicker of a memory - _too young, scrubbing his skin of blood, the cool bathroom tiles underneath his cheek, darkness dragging at his vision and the dread of no one there_ \- and Dean moves his hand, firmly but oh so gently tugs Cas' hand away from his throat and pulls it to his chest, right over his heart. He hopes it's not hammering as much as his ears are rushing. "Think you can focus on my breathing?"  
  
Cas doesn't answer but his brows furrow and his eyes slip shut. Dean forces his breaths to stay even and slow, extending the pause after each inhale and exhale unnecessarily. He counts along in his head, mumbles "In," and "Out," aloud with each rise and fall of his chest.  
  
It seems to do the trick.  
  
He throws in some encouragements when Cas' breaths stop hitching as much and his posture relaxes a little. His "See? Didn't hurt you at all," even draws a weak twitch from Cas' lips. When he practically sags into where Dean's hand is still resting against his face a while later, exhaustion in all the lines of his face, his body, _his being_ , Dean catches him all too easily, draws him in until Cas' forehead is tucked up against his neck. He leaves enough space, makes sure not to crowd him, while he rests there but can't stop himself from pressing his nose - his lips - into his mess of hair.  
  
The rushing in his ears is still too damn loud and Dean tries to swallow it down, tries to bury the voices screaming in his head - his fault, his fault, his fault, if he just hadn't - with more soothing nonsense directed at Cas. It doesn't work but he can feel Cas shake apart in a whole different way now. His shoulder is wet, from not just heavy breaths but tears and oh god, he needs to keep it together for just a bit longer, let Cas be. Let him be human and experience this different version of shock, panic, pain without overloading him with Dean's own play of it - he could have died again and this time there'd have been no one to bring him back.  
  
Dean's stomach turns, dread clogging up his throat. He presses his lips more forcefully against Cas' hairline, doesn't care, not a single bit. It's dark, it's just them and the room is drenched in heavy sweat and emotions. He whispers, "I'm here. You're safe." into it, not sure who he's reassuring.  
  
They stay like that until there's only sniffling to be heard and Cas moves, to straighten back up. Dean lets him but doesn't stop touching him, ignores the way his eyes are rimmed red, and staring at him. Instead, he tugs him up, onto shaking legs before he forces him to sit down on the bed. When he steps back, fingers catch on his watch then wrist, too weak for purpose but a heavy unsaid _don't leave_ clinging to them.  
  
"I'll be back in a second," he promises. They linger a heartbeat longer then drop away. Dean keeps his trip around the motel room short, collects a fresh bottle of water and a chocolate bar from his bag, a clean shirt too, and then a towel from the bathroom. He doesn't dare to turn on the light, too scared it'll wedge itself between them and clear the air.  
  
"Drink. And eat." It's not a request but an order. He presses both into his hands - he should have bought Cas dinner, he should have done so much - and while he drops the shirt on the bed, Cas holds out the bottle back to him. His hands still shake.  
  
"Could you-" His voice cracks, dies off but Dean twists the bottle cap off without question, while his spine tingles with something he can't stand, doesn't want right now - _weak, so human and weak and not_ \- can't allow to take over his brain when he needs to be okay right now. He focuses on toweling Cas' hair dry, wiping the cooling sweat off his neck, shoulders, and arms, while the rustling of plastic and chewing are the only loud sounds in the room. There's method to Dean's movements and even more method to his even breaths.  
  
"You should probably shower again in the morning."  
  
A pause and he can feel Cas staring up at him from underneath the towel, once more draped over his hair - it's peaking out, dark against the off-white fabric and Dean wants to dig his fingers into it without the barrier once more. It'd be tangled, soft and real. Instead, he meets Cas' eyes.  
  
"You've experienced this before."  
  
Not a question and Dean bites out, "You think?" without actually thinking. Yet his hands stay gentle, careful not to cause more pain. He tries again, "I spent forty years in hell," and then once more, "When you grow up with blood on your hands, these things happen."  
  
A shadow moves on Cas' face, settles into the lines of it and makes him look even more exhausted. "I'm sorry to hear that."  
  
It's raw and claws at something deep down inside of Dean. He moves without realizing, is straddling Cas and pushing him back onto the bed. He goes too willingly. It pisses Dean off.  
  
"Stop," he grits between his teeth, jaw so tense he fears it will stick. "Just stop."  
  
He's not sure who he's talking to.  
  
The light brushing through the curtains catches on the towel. It flickers like a halo around Cas' head. He just looks up at him, eyes big and wide. Expectant. And they've been here before and nothing's changed between them except everything has. _Human, human, human_ \- his brain yells at him, tries to force him back but instead, he leans in further.  
  
The kiss is the counterpart to his fingers cradling Cas' face like he is glass. His mouth pushes and pulls and bites and Cas- Cas pushes back, shaky but fully present and out to finish this. Just like he did that time-  
  
No, nothing like it because now, now he's the same in body and feeling if not in mind and the reaction he's getting is not just stimulation but the complete deal, the whole this is new once more thing - not that new and blood flicker through his mind and his teeth catch, drawing a soft groan.  
  
"Tell me to stop," Dean brings out between panted breaths, while his lips and tongue try catching the salty taste of sweat he missed underneath Cas' chin and by his ear. He feels feral, out of control. But if he'd just-  
  
"I won't." It's soft but the tug of fingers in his hair is insistent, a wordless plea that makes his stomach turn with want. He shivers, feels the sudden throb of his erection in his boxers and wishes he hadn't gotten so used to sleeping in flimsy nothingness already. It's not enough protection in his world. Not now, not ever. "I don't need to."  
  
The words are a double-edged sword and Dean throws himself into them, feels them bleed all over his skin. He pushes back, grabs and pulls at Cas until his shirt is gone, until his clammy skin is pressing against his roaming, searching fingers, until he's writhing underneath them - ticklish, human, not as in control - and he doesn't know who's comforting who here.  
  
"You should. I don't dese-" Dean's voice catches on a groan when he shifts and there's suddenly pressure against where he's achingly hard. His thoughts leave him for a second too long and he's lost.  
  
"That's for me to decide," Cas grits out, suddenly all anger and spite and then he's moving, is the one pushing at Dean's body until he's flat on the bed and Cas is sinking his teeth into his shoulder, with enough force to bruise. The _weaker but not weak_ screams it's way through his nerves and lights them on fire. And maybe not much changed after all, maybe-  
  
Cas, in all his sense of humanity, settles on top of him, right on his lap and replaces his ability to think with every inch his body presses closer, heavy puffs of air meeting the skin of his neck and cheek, stubble scratching along with it. It's not long before the overwhelming urge to touch, more and closer, makes Dean arch up into him. His hands reach, find not just Cas' body but one of his hands, tip him off-balance and force the air out of both of them with his full weight pressing them down. There are noises, gasps and whines, he's not sure from whom, and a nose nudging at his face. He turns into it, their lips catching and sticking and the burning brush of tongues.  
  
The whole thing feels too filled with urgency, too rushed and yet Dean feels too caught up in the why of this, in the way they got here to get where he should. Because he needs to take what he can get, take what Cas willingly offers him because he will never ask for it and he knows that the moment will break soon, one of them caving, jumping the cliff and ending this. And then they'll be right back to where they were. Cas human and fragile, Dean not there.  
  
"Look at me."  
  
Dean's eyes snap back open, pulling him back. Cas is hovering over him again, their noses so close, that he can feel himself going cross-eyed and it takes him a second longer to focus. He meets Cas' gaze, feels the tension thumping in his body, and watches with rapt attention how Cas' eyes slip close, his forehead wrinkling and then he stills breath hitching, and tips over the edge.  
  
For a second, time freezes and Dean's not sure what to do, his body still helplessly twitching, searching for friction. But it kicks back up again the moment Cas opens his eyes, mouth pressing back in, kissing him like it matters, soft and unhurried but with such intent. It makes something ache inside of Dean and his voice feels stretched thin, toeing the line of worried when he breathes "Cas?" into the thin space between them.  
  
"I'm okay." Cas' voice is rough, still fueled by panting breaths for the best reasons and it makes relief explode through Dean, wraps itself around his heart. He feels more vulnerable than he should while his body tightens and shatters apart soundlessly.  
  
The heat stays trapped between them, neither of them moving beyond rearranging limbs into more comfortable positions, boneless and exhausted, all the missing air and unsaid words of the night catching up and settling on top of them like a blanket. There's an itch in Dean's fingers to reach for his gun, lying somewhere on the floor still. No use as protection. Instead, he brushes his hand over Cas' naked back, up and down, feels him shiver and sigh.  
  
"I'm not a fan of sleep." Despite his words, he sounds on the edge of it already.  
  
"It's not the sleeping," Dean mumbles. The drag of his fingers over Cas' back slow and steady. "You're afraid of the dreams."  
  
A huffed laugh, warm against his collarbone even through his shirt. As if the concept of fear is still so far off Cas' mind despite everything that happened. "Goodnight, Dean."  
  
"Goodnight, Cas."  
  
Cas sleeps.  
  
Dean does not.

**Author's Note:**

> Reblog on [Tumblr](https://mizuirokandeya.tumblr.com/post/641602519966072832/heart-between-my-teeth). (Or just talk to me or something if you want to.)


End file.
